A review by nolansmock
Commute: An Illustrated Memoir of Female Shame by Erin Williams

3.0

Not sure if I fully understand the sheer animosity in the reviews here (even though generally the reaction seems balanced). On one hand, yes, this is a very myopic memoir, like a lot of graphic novels. I get it. Sometimes these people have insufferable moments but it's sort of expected in the genre to me. What I really don't get, though, is why so many are reading this take on the male gaze as *her* take on what it means to be a woman. This is a critique on how men and women internalize these bad things within their interactions with one another, how by extention this toxic relationship creates a bunch of other bad vibes. The book's narrative of going through your day, recalling how all your past lovers never once were in a balanced relationship with you, how it's all borderline abuse, how it's all caked into the entire thing, this all makes sense to me. It doesn't speak to my full experience but it speaks to hers. It's a book of broken daydreams and is often sad and angry. Still, I read it in a couple hours and couldn't put it down. I fell asleep after, I stress-dreamed about my past. It's a solemn experience, reading this, not meant to be pretty, and even if it's not most intersectional narrative in the world I think it's trying to go deeper inside, not wider outside. It's a *memoir*. What harm is being done, exactly? In my view these criticisms of misogyny, fatphobia, homophobia, misandry (that last one is telling to me; I'm a man and read this, not even bothered) are only valid if damage is being done and are largely only nitpicking three lines in this book. My only real criticism is that I feel like editors and publishers give pushback on books like this, maybe suggesting things end on a positive note, after all the misery. This doesn't always feel sincere or necessary, resulting in endings meant to sum everything up, give you hope, tie it up in a bow. Life isn't like that.